


Truths unspoken

by DracoIgnis, Dragon_and_Direwolf



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bittersweet, F/M, Kissing, Long-Distance Relationship, Moving Out, Romance, Teenagers, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27181189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_and_Direwolf/pseuds/Dragon_and_Direwolf
Summary: Jon is dropping out of school and moving away - but leaving means saying goodbye to his childhood sweetheart Daenerys. But is it ever really farewell if you love each other?
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 45
Kudos: 174





	Truths unspoken

“I’m dropping out.”

Jon said it casually, as if it didn’t really mean anything, and he had a drag of his smoke as he glanced across the cityscape. From up here he could see far; the schoolyard below, the row of terraced houses across the street and, in the horizon, the factory buildings, their slick steel facades glimmering in the setting sun. It could be romantic, he thought, sitting in the windowsill with his childhood sweetheart. If he wasn’t about to break her heart.

Jon had another drag of his cigarette. He blew smoke toward the sky. Then, he peered back at her, timidly.

Daenerys sat frozen before him. She looked cute in her lavender slip dress and blue denim jacket. It was too big for her. _Of course_ it was; it had been his, two years earlier, when he thought he was going to be punk. She had removed the safety pins and most of the patches. One remained: Ramones. Jon eyed it as she said: “What?”

“Mhmm,” he mumbled around the cigarette, “this week. Friday, actually. I spoke with Mr Mormont.”

“But Friday’s _tomorrow.”_

“Is it?” Jon pretended to be surprised. “Oh, right. It is.”

The classroom was empty. It stank of sweat, and deodorant, and cold coffee, the smells embedded in the old wallpaper. Yet Jon could only sense _her:_ her chewing gum, and her rose perfume, and the taste of lemon tea still lingering on her lips. He wanted to kiss the scent off of her. But he didn’t.

“Were you suspended?” Daenerys asked.

Jon grimaced: “Of course not.”

“Jon,” she said, sending him a knowing look, “did you fight Ramsay again?”

“Nah, that knob isn’t worth it,” Jon grinned.

Daenerys didn’t return his smile. She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, staring at him, reading his face. Jon found himself fighting to show nothing; no perplexion, no anger, no joy, no sadness. Just pure _nothingness._ “If this is a joke,” she said, “it’s not funny.”

“You want to hear a joke?”

“I want to hear the truth. Why are you dropping out?”

Jon licked his lips. He had another drag of his cigarette. His gaze never once left Daenerys’ face. She was staring at him, her violet eyes hard, and her lips pulled into a frown. It was cute. It was frustrating. He’d much prefer it if she’d shout at him, say:

_“Why didn’t you tell me before, you twat!”_ Anger, after all, he could deal with. Logic, patience, _kindness_ \- those were emotions that required a reasonable response. And Jon longed to be unreasonable.

The silence had carried on for too long. Jon finally sighed: “My dad’s dead,” and threw the smoke out of the window.

Daenerys nodded. “I know,” she said, “I’m sorry.”

“You were at the funeral.”

“I was,” she said, “it was very touching.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Jon fumbled in his pockets for another smoke. His pack was empty. The paper and plastic crunched in his hand. He threw it too and watched it drop toward the yard. A dusting of tobacco seemed to linger. The smell made him parched, and his heartbeat quickened, and his fingers tingled impatiently. He wasn’t sure what he needed; nicotine, or a hug. “It was shit. Everyone just kept saying how he was this great man, this great _father.”_

“He loved you,” Daenerys said and reached for his hand.

Jon pulled it back with a frown. “But he loved Catelyn more,” he said, “or he wouldn’t have let her treat me the way she did.” He glared up at the sky. The sharp light from the sun was making his eyes hurt. He wished he had his shades. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and let it drop to the floor, allowing the cool wind to blow against his bare arms.

Daenerys didn’t relent - she reached out, grabbed Jon’s hands, and pulled them between her own. Her palms were soft and warm. His were rough and cold. She touched him; the knuckles, and the back of his hands, and his wrists. “Jon,” she said, calmly, her fingers digging between his, holding him, “why are you dropping out?”

“She’s kicked me out.” Jon spoke before he thought to stop himself. He wanted to kick himself. He couldn’t take it back. He saw it in Daenerys’ eyes; _realisation._ It made him avert his gaze. “She’s kicked me out,” he repeated in a mumble, “Catelyn.”

“You’re _homeless?”_ Daenerys breathed shocked.

“No,” Jon assured her quickly, “not yet, anyway. Uncle Benjen’s taking me in.”

“Benjen?” Daenerys repeated perplexed. “But he lives-” She stopped. She stared. _She knew._ Jon didn’t have to say: in her expression, he saw that she understood. Uncle Benjen lived in Scotland.

_And Scotland is a world away from London,_ Jon thought bitterly.

“But-” Daenerys started, “but what about _university?_ We were meant to go together.”

“Ah, Dany, I’ve barely been in class after Dad passed,” Jon mumbled dismissively, “my grades are shit.”

“But it could still happen,” Daenerys continued. He could hear it in her voice now - panic. It was faint, her body fighting to hold it back. But it was winning. “You could still get an offer.”

“What good would that do me? I’ve got no money.”

“You could get a loan-”

“Dany,” Jon interrupted, squeezing her hands as he sent her a pained smile, “my uncle’s got no money either. This won’t be a holiday. I’ll have to work if I want to stay.”

“But-” Daenerys started, yet this time she stopped herself. Her lips snapped shut, but her eyes spoke what she couldn’t. In them, Jon saw another conversation, one in which she said:

“I want you to stay,” and he replied:

“I want to stay forever,” and they kissed, and they stayed, right in that windowsill, watching the sun set and rise, night passing day yet never growing older, and never growing apart.

But out loud she said: “I’ll miss you,” and Jon lifted his hand, touched her cheek, and whispered:

“I’ll miss you more.” And he kissed her.

Gum, perfume, lemon tea. Jon breathed in the scent of Daenerys. Silk, denim, elastic hair-bands. Jon grew weak in the feel of Daenerys. Tears, forced smiles, quiet pleadings. Jon drowned in the loss of Daenerys. But:

“You’ll always have me,” she promised, her arms around his neck, her nose in his hair, her lips mumbling sweet everythings. “Wherever, whenever - I am always yours.”

_And you are mine,_ Jon thought, his face at her shoulder, smelling himself on her denim jacket. He could do life over, he sensed, and still he would make the same mistakes, if it meant ending up in her arms, right now, as the sun set across the city. After all, he thought, what could be more beautiful than to love, and be loved?

**Author's Note:**

> This one was very reminiscence of what I used to do - pure YA short stories! It was fun dipping back into an old style and taking a new twist on it, though it's not the kind of stuff I tend to do anymore. I hope you still enjoyed it!
> 
> Tomorrow will be a dirty 10k story.. so consider yourselves warned!
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoy the rest of your Saturday!


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